Two
by Vitabella
Summary: Ashley Davies thrives and struggles with her double life, with the help and harm of a blue eyed blonde, a dark eyed vixen, a school of saints and a club of criminals. Reviews always appreciated.
1. Prologue

When I was a little girl, I always had to have two of everything. Holidays like Christmas when there was no excuse to not get me something became a chore for everyone, because I don't care if you bought me the prettiest pony in the United States (sorry, Aunt Margaret), I'd send the bastard back if he didn't come with a playmate. It frustrated the relatives, yeah, but it's not like you consider that type of thing when you have two of the most gorgeous Barbie dolls in front of you just begging to be dressed (especially when all your friends pleaded their parents for said Barbie to no avail).

I guess I was lucky; when my dad was around - - my definition of that being "the times when the big-shot wasn't drunkenly playing concerts or shacking up with trashy whores"- - he gave in to every little thing I wanted, because he knew it would never be enough, no matter how hard the rock star tried. Dad didn't like that fact too much, but I didn't mind, as long as it meant I got my double scoops of vanilla ice dream twice a year when he took me out…or my hair done in two pig-tails by the maid, or my cute little $300 polo shirts with two shiny buttons on the collar. I was too naïve to understand my fascination with the number - - two, of course - - at the time, but what Ashley wanted, Ashley got. Maybe that was my problem.

Regardless, the number two followed me from my childhood up to this point and has usually been able to sort out most of my issues. Since one of something has never been enough for me, I've always settled for two. Always. It's just the moral thing to do. So in the rare case that two of something didn't end seeming sufficient, I'd always know something was up. Like in first grade when Evan and Nathan (my boyfriends) weren't enough mental stimulation for me. Even then, I knew that if **two** boys didn't satisfy me, one never would. Not that I'm an advocate for monogamy, but I think everyone has to settle down at some point. Or whatever. Anyway, you know you're gay when the two cutest boys in school are on either side of you holding your hands and all you can think about is how you're gonna ask Carla and Amber if they want to play Power Rangers.

But I digress. Anyway, people always say that bad things come in threes. What no one ever seems to notice is that the good things in life pretty much always happen in twos. It's a good thing the world has me around, otherwise there's no telling who would've made this brilliant scientific discovery. But it's just so obvious! Good things come in twos. Don't believe me? Try me.

There were two of each animal species on Noah's ark, and it takes a man and a woman - - two people - - to reproduce. Yeah, granted, threesomes are proof that God exists - - if anything can prove that, it's a threesome - - but one extra person in the equation does not further the human race. Adam and Eve, not Adam, Eve, and Ava (might've spiced that damn book up a bit, but you get the idea).

There are two peeps in every mini-package I get at the gas station, two floors in my dream house (the one I live in, actually), and I have two of most things that matter: eyes, ears, arms, breasts - - I could go on for a while.

Anyway, seeing as I've probably wooed you with my mad persuasion skills by now, I should probably get to the point.

Good things come in twos. I'm a cautious person, half the time, so naturally with something as precious as my existence I need a definite thing. Something I know from experience that I can count on to never let me down.

I'm Ashley Veda Davies, and I lead a double life.

Now, don't think I'm some crazy skank because of my confession. It's not like I go to two different schools and have two different boyfriends (or girlfriends. Whatever.) I just have my pleasures separated, you know? I'm not crazy in the least.

People (well, psychologists) often confuse my double lives with bi-polar disorder, split personalities, and schizophrenia. Well, fuck that, man. Not that I have anything against manics, people with split personalities, or schizoids - - everyone's got their own crazy cup of tea, and I gulp mine, secretly - - but I'm not one of them. You understand my frustration here. I'm just Ashley Davies. Not Ashley one minute and Amy the next, not Ashley and _who the fuck am I_? No. I'm only Ashley, around the clock. But like I said, I have my pleasures separated.

Normally, most of us humans are more serious in the daytime hours than at night, right? I'm about as normal as anyone can handle in LA. The only difference between most Americans and myself is; while the majority of these people are stuck at their lousy 9-to-5 during the daylight, I'm somewhere I want to be. King High, that is.

School is starting back up again, and I honestly missed it, but this summer was insane. Not gonna lie, I kind of tapped into the other side of life near the end of last school year and by the time summer came around I was absolutely immersed in all the fun. AKA found my 2nd life right before this summer.

I'd always had two lives, now that I think about it. When I was little, even: I had one with my real playmates, one with my dolls. They were both my friends; I wouldn't lie to myself about that, but I hid them from each other. That's what made it a double life, even then. As I got older and discovered the Internet, my double life was there. I had my real friends online, and then I had my "real" friends in person. For some reason I fell mostly out of that, I guess fear overcame obsession in that case. But while it existed, it was great. The point is, I've always had two separate lives, whether I knew how to categorize it or not. This time it was just more mature, more adult, and I knew I wasn't just having fun at clubs anymore. I had found a new world that consisted of grinding, aching bodies and nameless faces; a world I knew would soon become half a home to me.

Summer was epic. I had been clubbing for a while, but since nothing was expected of me during the summer, my nights at Grey, Ego and the like started earlier, and, mind you, ended much later. They were like my nights during the school year, just longer. Party, fuck, dance, fuck. Throw a "toke" and a "swig" in there periodically and you've nailed my summer nights at the clubs. It was nice, but I guess I'm craving more of a balance. Your conscience takes a toll when you get to be the bad girl _all _the time.

Granted, my dual lives still existed in the summer, but they weren't as extreme as they are during the school year. I had fun with Carmen - - she's the closest thing I have to a best friend, has been for as long as I can remember - - during the day, and blew her off for the clubs at night. Eventually she started getting onto my ass about why she could never stay at my house past 8, but she let up on it when she realized I was never going to tell her where I go after hours.

Carmen gets me. At least the daytime me, and she respects the nighttime me as well, without actually realizing it. It's half the reason I keep her around, hah. I'm not going to lie, we have a pretty epic friendship; she's the truest friend I have. I can almost trust her with myself since we're so much alike. In fact, I think if I was ever ready to come out to anyone, sexuality-wise - - which is never going to happen in a million years, don't get too excited - - Carmen would be accepting, considering she's bi herself. But I don't know. I love Carmen as a friend, but if she knew either of my darkest secrets, she'd _have_ to get whacked. It's just business.

Eh, fuck her. Anyway, now that school's starting, my lives will go as follows: straight by day (or so they think), gay by night. Loved by day by all my King High lackeys, lusted for by all my one-night screws by night. It's pretty simple. I put on my plastic face at school; it's an adorable exterior, but plastic nonetheless. They all love me there now, they do, and for that I am grateful, because they weren't always too crazy about me. I was always different from everyone else, so in a sense I have never (and will never) fit in. It's just that now, no one is dumb enough to pretend I'm different in a bad way. By the time freshman year came around and all the girls noticed how much sexier I was than they were, you can bet they all jumped on the "I love Ashley Davies" bandwagon. This year I'll be a junior, and I'm running for class president. There is no doubt that I'll win. I own that school, and all I know is they adore me.

You'd think I'd want to smack them sometimes. "I'm not perfect!" it would be normal for me to shriek, and throw my shoes, or textbooks at them or something. But I'm content from the moment I wake up to the moment I walk out the doors of King High, because I know that whatever frustrations a normal person would have will be taken out on a svelte stranger that night.

No matter where I go, I'll only have half of myself showing, because there is no whole Ashley. Just the halves that make me complete yet at the same time can never join together and make me one real person.

Whatever. I can't say things aren't nice. I'm the girl everyone wants to be, whether I'm flaunting my shit in the hallway or on the dance floor. I'm just not sure there's much in it for me anymore. Pleasing people all the time. What does Ashley want?

I don't know. I'll figure it out sometime. But in the mean time, I have to stay epic sexy for the start of school. My sanity can wait.


	2. Fake Plastic Trees

The school was a cesspool of sleaze. There were so many 50 Cents on the King High sidewalk you'd think they funded the scholarship program (although, all kidding aside, this particular group was not capable of funding much of anything).

A tourist from another country, if he so happened to spot the school while whizzing by in a taxi, would presume he was witnessing recess time for prison-mates. He'd scratch his head and hum a silent thank-you prayer, seeing as it wasn't often an outsider got to play audience to the American animal in his native habitat.

The foreigner would ask the taxi driver to stall briefly in order to take advantage of his fascinating surroundings. He'd glance flightily at pregnant girls at the tender age of 15 or 16, shuddering slightly, wondering why this was considered the world's most envied culture. His gaze would linger on scantily clad teens, their absent chests halfway on display for the starving-eyed boys that surrounded them. These girls were probably seniors, and it would not be shocking to discover that they'd remain seniors for a while.

The tourist's face would twist into a disapproving scowl at the males in his sight, noting the prominent tall-tees, sagging jeans and poor boy's bling, most likely not a dollar over 20 and probably free if a gun was involved.

"Luckily", these students would remain outside for the majority of the year, miles from campus and away from the "true" youth of King High. You could bet your favorite crack pipe these students would sooner attend a brunch with George Bush Jr. than go to class. They stayed away from the rest of the students unless they were jacking cars or watches, and the theft almost made their social unacceptance…acceptable to them.

This was an unspoken bargain between the rich "whities" and the poor "gangsters": "Steal my freedom, I rob your wheels, motherfucker." Then they were even, for the time being.

It was a way of life, partly, and the other part was a method of getting attention.

Better to be known for being toxic to others than to simply be shunned for nothing.

Resisting the urge to shield his eyes, the tourist would allow the taxi driver to continue on to his initial destination, too disgusted to objectively analyze this picture of America.

What an idiot. The group of students dwelling far outside the building was sadly the least of anyone's concerns in Los Angeles. The real spectacle was further inside.

Past what looked like the set of a Beyonce music video was a more realistic picture of King High. Steep stairs led up to the entrance of the school, and on these stairs, what looked like it could easily be the Laguna Beach reunion gathered. Hundreds of good-looking teenagers stood together, laughing, hugging, and glaring, as would be expected. They were the epitome of spoiled, and Exhibit A of King High, the biggest teen colony in the city of angels. Only the best-bred kids belonged to this social group: Barbie, Ken, & Co. Multiplied by about a hundred, you've got the popular crowd.

The typical girl around these parts looked like she was just coming back from a Beyond the Break audition, at _all_ times. An average girl around here was physically perfect: light haired and ocean-eyed, with sun-kissed skin and _huge_ knockers. Those were the minimum requirements for beauty in Los Angeles; you had to be a California Cinderella (a rich one, mind you).

Yet if you asked any of the students what was special about their school, you'd get two words that had absolutely nothing in common with blonde hair and blue eyes.

"_Ashley Davies_!?"

At the sound of her name, Ashley turned her face nonchalantly, a smug grin growing slowly. Would a Miss America-style wave be appropriate? Or should I keep them on their toes like usual?

She stood, the queen of King High, leaning up against the stair rail in a pose that paid homage to Rebel without a Cause. She held herself impeccably, not a flaw in her dominant posture. They did call her "Jane" Dean last year, and from the looks of it, they'd be making quite a few nicknames to describe their teenage empress in the semesters to come.

Hungry eyes ate Ashley up greedily; their lecherous gazes each mirroring the others as if they were envisioning the same perverted fantasy on a giant plasma screen. The stalling pairs of orbs each sported a strange glaze as if they'd each been infected with numbing Rabies, and Ashley was reveling in every smidgen of the filth. She lived for moments like these; soulless people blindly following their ironically untrusting leader. This was Ashley's air. This was life. The fact that one person could so easily manipulate the feelings of others was a marvelous truth. She'd never use her skills wrongly, but there was no shame in utilizing her talent for the fun of it.

While before, the voices of her admirers had been blending together - - Ashley hadn't been paying much attention to their questions, only answering the semi- interesting ones - - one shrill voice stood out from the rest, molesting her ear drums in a ferocious attack.

"_Damn_, girl, you look great! What'd you do this summer?"

A Hispanic girl shrieked. This was the former queen, overruled by the obvious. Ashley pretended to barely remember this particular girl from the years before (Why the fuck should I give her that pleasure?) but she honestly had a weak spot for the Latina. She had shunned Ashley, like everyone else, when no one had accepted her before, and her past insecurities were hard to shake. But fuck it, at least let the bitch believe she didn't care now.

Ashley grinned like the cat that ate the canary. Mindfucking was her second favorite kind of sex; so exhilarating.

"Saved the world like usual, Madison, what else?"

And with that, Ashley turned her face coyly and eliminated Madison from her vision.

What she said about saving the world wasn't entirely untrue. Ashley satisfied the sex drives of about half the lady-loving population in LA; that could be considered a heroic feat.

However, it remained true that most dared to be monogamous, and Ashley was far too afraid.

Upon hearing Ashley's voice, the boys in the crowd were reduced to a zombie-like state, tripping over their own feet awkwardly, and the teenage girls had to fight the urge to glare, no matter how much they respected Ashley. She looked **good**. 

Today she happened to be sporting something fancier than usual, a detail that did not go unnoticed by the circle-jerks surrounding her, or her female followers, bombarding her with questions about her fashion sense.

Davies silently scoffed at their reaction; she hadn't even tried that hard that morning. (Alright, maybe she did. But fuck it, man, what they didn't know wouldn't hurt 'em.)

She wore standard black skinny jeans and a white dress shirt that was unbuttoned in all the right places, exposing her sexy abdominal muscles and just a peak of cleavage. The sleeves were rolled up to make her outfit appear sultry and sloppy. She accessorized with classy black earrings and a black silk Armani necktie, carelessly (yet purposefully) set off to the side of her body, and her shoes were edgy ivory-colored heels. The outfit said, "I am, hands down, both the most gorgeous and the most interesting person here." And they all believed her.

So King High bowed down to their Athena, their Aphrodite, their queen Ashley.

And thank the Lord (or, whatever) that Carmen just wasn't feeling it.

Her timing was perfect.

Ashley was getting overwhelmed with these dipshits; no matter how much she enjoyed knowing that others depended on her for things, these specific minions were fuckin' obnoxious. She wasn't famous just yet; no need to obsess, man. She just wanted some easy metaphorical love, but what she was receiving from these perverts was far more than enough.

"Now, where in the world is Carmen Santiago…"

Ashley mused, scrunching her face into an adorably distressed expression. She was too preoccupied with her annoyances to catch the humor in her own words. But shit. It's like the second you realize you need somebody, for one reason or another, they realize how little they actually need **you**. Where was her almost best friend the one time she could actually use her for something?

Like clockwork, the stunning half-Latina, half-Greek was there, conspicuous as ever.

Carmen Camilla Santiago radiated mystique, her sleek bangs complementing every sharp feature she possessed. Her slight baby face twisted into a goofy grin as she rushed up to Ashley. She could barely muster a wave before Davies pulled her close, whispering harshly into her sidekick's ear. In all honesty, they were happy to see each other.

"Took you long enough, dick! Are you gonna get me away from here or what?"

Carmen grinned slyly.

"Wow, Ashley. I dunno if your loyal subjects here would approve of that kinda language." She mocked her partner-in-crime liberally, a very Carmen-esque grin expanding across her face. It was a healthy part of their friendship to make fun of one-another; it kept them alive.

Ashley rolled her eyes. "Just get me the fuck out of here, Santiago," she hissed into her almost best friend's ear. And Carmen obliged, dragging her friend away from the rabid crowd, shouting loudly as a diversion. (Who would've guessed, she was a screamer.)

"Oh…my…GOD, _ants_! Get out my way, mothafucka!"

It was barely believable, but the crowd parted for the bi-polar bombshell, used to her semi-psychotic antics by now.

No one understood why someone as flawless as Ashley would hang out with a walking train wreck like Carmen. Not that they weren't _almost _as crazy about Santiago - - she was even more liked by some, although they were unwilling to admit it - - they just couldn't understand how the Yin and Yang of their school could get along so easily.

Some jokingly referred to Carmen as Davies' community service project, just another quirk to add to her ever-expanding resume. Nothing else seemed to make sense. (Maybe joint careers in the adult film industry, but sadly, they knew that was a little out of the question.) Why would Ashley Davies, the most perfect girl on the face of the planet, hang out with the most unstable? Oh, they had _no_ idea.

She sprinted off with Ashley, as far as they could get away with such limited breath. Both girls were laughing hysterically. You could always count on Carmen as an obnoxious distraction; that was her greatest quality.

"You're such a _bitch_," Davies joked once they had finally found a nice spot to stand, under a shady tree.

Carmen smiled in mock warmth. "Didn't know you thought so highly of me, sweet'art."

She said it with the same nonchalance that coated her other words, but somehow when Carmen uttered pet names, no matter how snakily, the world stopped for a moment. Even though her words were dripping in sarcasm, they would make any guy or girl shudder in ecstasy for just a moment in a toe-curling, breath-stopping, satisfying eargasm. Well, anyone other than Davies.

Alright, so Carmen was a stunner. But even if Ashley was gay by day, she and Santiago just weren't into each other like that. They made a much better duo as stunning almost-sidekicks; it was something both of them had always silently agreed on. Oh yeah, and, how could anyone forget…Davies was "straight". Or whatever.

Ashley groaned in faux annoyance. "Come on, Carmen. Don't start hitting on me now, I wanna make it to fourth period without throwing up today."

"New goal?"

"You could say that."

The girls both stifled a laugh, knowing they'd have plenty of time for crafting inside jokes later. Something else had just become a little more important.

"Hey, check out 6 o'clock," Carmen husked, nudging her partner in crime. Her dark eyes glazed in desire, focused on someone across the yard. She licked her lips not so unconsciously, her feet frozen in their place. This was going to be one interesting year if morsels like _that _were available. 


	3. About A Girl

**A/N**: Sorry it took a while for me to post this, but I do have an explanation. This chapter was supposed to be the second half to Chapter One, but then I realized there was so much more that I wanted to put into it, and that it would take a little time. So once again I must say sorry it took so long but you'll definitely appreciate that I put in extra details once you've read it.

At this very moment you are reading this story's lucky chapter; it's Chapter 2 of "Two". So naturally I wanted to make this extra good (and yes, you may take that as some foreshadowing.)

It's quite a bit longer than the other chapters so far.

I hope you all enjoy it.

**Rating**: NC17

Two

By: Vitabella

Chapter 2: About A Girl

"_I need an easy friend_

_I do, with an ear to lend_

_I do think you fit the shoe_

_I do keep a date with you"_

_Kurt Cobain_

Last chapter:

"_Hey, check out 6 o'clock," Carmen husked, nudging her partner in crime. Her dark eyes glazed in desire, focused on someone across the yard. She licked her lips not so unconsciously, her feet frozen in their place. This was going to be one interesting year if morsels like __**that**__ were available._

Ashley didn't bat an eye. This was probably just another light-haired skank for Carmen to screw with. She didn't doubt that whoever this new girl was, she'd be identical to any given plaything of Santiago's; they'd fuck for a few weeks until Carmen would flip out on New Girl and find another one per usual. But at least she'd stick with her for a while before letting her go.

It was kind of a sad thing for Ashley to think about; even someone as careless with feelings as Carmen was more monogamous than a person like Ashley, who was too terrified to even go near another heart.

Precisely why Davies chose not to think about shit like that.

She sighed. "Carmen, you don't even know where 6 o'clock is." 

Santiago didn't take her eyes off her prey. "Says the chick who isn't even looking."

Pfft.

"Fuck off, Carmen, you clit. She's probably not even---"

_Wow_.

Alright, Santiago had good taste. Nothing to freak out about, it's not like Davies pursued girls at school anyway. This one was _smoking_, but even if Sophia Bush herself had stumbled into the courtyard that moment looking for Brittany Snow, nobody would be worth merging her double lives for.

Plus, she wasn't really into brunettes.

But Carmen was. Oh, she_ was._ So despite her almost best friend's nonchalance about the fresh meat, Carmen's eyes stayed glued to the new girl.

She couldn't help it. It was like a magnet had been implanted in her eyes, drawing her to some strange substance in this mysterious female. Such a feeling of helplessness would normally be unnerving, but somehow Carmen knew she'd soon have no problem with letting someone else take the reigns.

New Girl had an air of…something, to her, which made her breathtakingly sexy at first glance. Something stood out about her, whether it was the way she carried herself like the world wasn't spinning (her feet seemed to barely grace the ground as she strolled) or the way she grinned at things that no one else could hear.

Santiago felt she knew this girl closely already, just from the way she acted so openly, not afraid in the least of anyone seeing who she really was. (For instance, if a stranger just so happened to be staring at her from afar for several minutes.) That took courage; showing people her very being without a thought about it. Carmen couldn't help but hope she was just as bold in bed.

Santiago, strangely spiritual at times, was envisioning the new girl's aura. It was white - - the rarest aura color of all - - and radiated throughout the air like a force field of hot invisible flames, enveloping the new girl in a strong, silent cloud of life. Vitality, depth, and intelligence. Nice.

Her aura held bands of purple and gold as well. Regality. _That's_ what made her different from the rest. It all made sense now.

New Girl held her head high, her green-tinted aviators not able to hide the intensity of her eyes. They were scanning the crowd of plastics for a face made of flesh, oblivious to dark eyes piercing through the crowd striving to look past her sunglasses.

"Ah, she's a social one…" Carmen muttered. "I can deal with that."

"What are you mumbling about, you queer?"

Ashley was getting impatient with her friend's new fascination.

"Look at her! Fresh Meat. (She gestured with her head.) She's lookin' for somebody to talk to. And her aura's white."

Ashley looked at Carmen incredulously. "Yeah, and her _hair_ is brown. Next!"

Carmen chuckled, running her tongue along her top row of teeth deviously.

"And you're calling _me_ a queer?"

Ashley couldn't help but flinch. Being able to joke with one another was a healthy part of their friendship, yeah, but it was so much easier when the subject matter wasn't touchy like this…

"Seriously, Davies, if I knew you were into chicks I'd have backed off from that Demi girl from last summer, 'cause I thought you had more than friendly feelings for her back then, but now that I know you're a lady-lover for sure - -"

Carmen's tone was getting less trivial, less joking each second. 

Ashley froze upon making that realization.

Her breath caught in her throat abruptly; something in Carmen's voice had hit a raw nerve, shoving past Ashley's comfort zone and into dangerous territory.

Davies was genuinely horrified. She could almost feel her dual lives crashing into one another; Ashley helplessly stuck in the middle as they suffocated her in their efforts to join themselves together. This would not work. This could NOT happen.

"It's all right Ash - -"

Oh.

"I honestly think it's really cool - -"

My.

"Not that I'm all that surprised - -"

Fucking.

"Well, hey, we can go to gay clubs with each other now!"

God…

"I mean, not _with_ each other - -"

Ashley could've sworn her heart hadn't been beating before; now it was pulsating with such a force that she felt she'd spontaneously combust if her blood was being shoved through her body any quicker.

But the poisonous sensation of her blood cells rushing out of her heart too soon lasted only for a split second, and Davies found her trademark strength again.

She shrugged in a mark of nonchalance.

"I'm just comfortable with my sexuality, Carmen. I'm allowed to say whether I think a girl is hot or not. And anyway, I said she wasn't, so don't be getting your butchy red panties up in a bunch."

Santiago wasn't buying it. If possible, the smirk on her face grew even larger. A stranger might think she had an episode of Family Guy playing in her brain from the secret smile plastered on her face. She loved these rare moments when she could be more powerful than Davies. A disbelieving look crossed Carmen's features as she slowly opened her mouth to speak.

"_Yeah_, hon, well you also implied that brunettes ain't your type. Which means you _have_ a type with girls (Ashley stared at her, dumbfounded) - - Which, hate to break it to you, sweetie, but it basically means you're a big ol' homo."

Ashley's blood was running cold; the conniving look on Carmen's face scared her. As Carmen cracked the smile of a jester, Davies felt a torturous tug on her heart, screaming that someone had finally caught her. Someone had finally seen her other side.

Walls came crashing down inside her head; glass flew everywhere, flowerpots broke. Debris encircled the center of her security like a life-threatening dust storm. The vase filled with Christine Davies's ashes flew off the fireplace mantle and smashed into the already trembling ceiling fan. At that moment, Ashley's mind was not a safe place to be.

But Davies was used to working with a dangerous brain, so she shot back, like she and the rest of the school believed she would.

She plastered a disbelieving smirk on her face.

"Who are _you_ to call somebody else gay, Carmen? You're the most famous bisexual on campus. Biased much?"

Carmen sneered. "Defensive much? Whatever, Davies. The fact that I'm bi means that out of anyone here, I've got the most effective gaydar. And considering how I've known you your entire life? Face it, Davies, you're _gay_."

_BOOM!_

The fan barreled down, the house fell over, and the earth shattered beneath Ashley's feet.

Davies lowered her voice, rasping almost silently. This wasn't a game anymore. "Just drop it, Santiago." She pleaded with her eyes as much as her statement.

Carmen paused for a moment, pondering.

"Look, Ash, I'm not just saying all this to fuck with you; you know I care about you like crazy. But don't hide yourself from everybody, alright?"

Ashley turned her face away. She wasn't up for anything emotional today. But despite that, and because Carmen knew Ashley better than anyone at that point, she continued.

"It's like this summer you became a different person half the time…And I don't give a shit what you say about it now, but you _know_ I know what was up. Don't even pretend like you don't."

She took a deep breath, attempting to reach out to Ashley with her eyes; trying to convey how and _why_ she felt through an expression - - and to read Ashley the only way she really could - - but Davies would not even give her a look. So she pressed on.

With a sigh, she emitted, "Look, Davies, I'm not saying go and tell the whole school you're a skirt-chaser, but just don't fuckin' lie to yourself."

Ashley's angry gaze met Carmen's finally.

"These other Barbie dolls of yours I couldn't care less about. Because _they don't know you_. So alright, pretend to be little miss straight girl around them but Ashley?"

Chocolate brown melted into ebony.

"Come on, Ash. Please just don't lie to _me_."

For a moment, Ashley was silent. What could she say? She wasn't ready for anyone to know, not even Carmen. (It was surprising her enough that an "uncaring badass" type like Santiago would dare to get all lame-shit with her anyway. Didn't Carmen care about her own reputation?)

If she was being honest with herself, Davies could easily say that she'd have no moral problem with keeping her sexuality a secret from her school or work crowd for as long as she lived. But as Ashley realized at that very moment, the world couldn't always have her back like she thought it did before. Not even because of her last name.

Or her ample chest, or the way her nose crinkled when she smiled genuinely; nor the way her voice rasped when she was being honest for once. No matter how gorgeous she was on the outside, the world would not fall to its knees at her manipulations when it came to her little secret.

So finally, Davies caved. Holding her stubborn gaze with Carmen like a professional truth-twister, she rasped quietly,

"I'm not gonna give you a yes or no."

Santiago's eyes smiled, though she knew better than to give her mouth such a privilege at that moment.

"I know."

Ashley sunk back onto the tree, feeling nakedly defeated. Her deep brown eyes drooped, focusing on the way the grass faltered when the wind blew.

"Could we just drop it now, dickhead?"

She cracked a smile. Calling Carmen names that had anything to do with male genitalia always cheered her up for some reason. It might've been how it always shut her up.

"Your _lover_ caught you staring earlier, by the way."

Carmen perked up immediately, snapping her head up once again at the mysterious, dark-haired dame her eyes had been neglecting for the last few minutes. New Girl was approaching, and getting closer by the second.

Upon contact with jade daggers - - eyes so intensely olive they were painful to focus on - - Carmen felt as if her own orbs were the enemies of green thunder. She was unsure of whether to flee from the intensity by turning away, or shoot an equally flirtatious gaze back. Settling on the latter, she began to work her own black magic.

Or, attempted to.

It was a little hard when the beauty was so…close.

For a split second, all Carmen knew was the shock of powerful green eyes electrocuting her own, and the enticing scent of vanilla and apples, _begging_ her to melt into the arms of a stranger. _Pleading_ into her eyes, "Fuck! I want you, _now_" in the most tantalizing, fulfilling eyesex Carmen had ever participated in. The mental masturbation was in full force on both sides of eyes, quickly bringing Santiago to her imaginary mind-blowing climax - -

And then she was gone.

Mouth agape, she turned her attention to a smirking Ashley. Carmen couldn't even muster a glare; she was too caught up in the not-so-distant memory of green flooding her vision. With a dazed look, she smiled to herself. That was…

"Not bad for a new girl." Ashley mused, grinning.

Santiago was thinking more on the lines of "amazing", but that would do.

"No, but seriously, I have to give her credit on that. You can tell she's not even from Los Angeles," Davies continued, genuinely amused. "Maybe San Fran? Manhattan? Shit, I don't know. But she's definitely dealt with girls before." (Ashley was noticeably relieved; talking about Carmen's gayness, or whatever, was so much easier than discussing her own.)

Carmen looked sheepish for a moment. "Ash, what just happened?"

Davies patted her mock-sympathetically on the shoulder.

"Well, it seems like Santiago's pretty _sprung _to me"

A joker's grin found its way to Ashley's face, nose crinkle and all, and she tried desperately to not erupt in laughter. Oh, this was a cute moment in little Carmen's life. She was falling in love!

Jesus Christ, what the fuck was she thinking…

"I'm _not_ even kidding." Carmen admitted. "I have literally…_no_ idea what just went on a second ago."

Ashley rolled her eyes. "Alright, well, in all seriousness, Fresh-Meat walked right by you and looked at you for like half a second, which pretty much turned you into a big lesbian puddle."

"…Where is she now?" 

"Uh, getting her schedule, why?"

Carmen's face twisted into a perverted grin, and it barely took a second to register with Ashley.

She rolled her eyes again, slapping her almost-best friend on the ass.

"Well, go get her, Cinder-Ellen!"

Ashley watched Carmen flounce away with the most sickening smile on her face. Oh, love…and what it does to those who don't expect it.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Rushing inside the school, Carmen scanned the premises for her prey. Apparently the gym - - where Santiago stood - - was where juniors received their new schedules. Considering that she was a junior as well and would be needing her schedule anyway, this was the perfect excuse for a conversation.

Upon noticing her target standing impatiently at a table, Carmen forced her face to calm down. She couldn't just walk up there, goofy-grinned and awkward, and woo a stranger; ("Hey there! Intercourse, anyone?") Not even Santiago was that smooth.

So for once, Carmen allowed herself to be vulnerable. She let fate take control of her body as she allowed her stubborn mind to rest. Strolling up to the table marked with the initial of her last name, her actions with the new girl were to go entirely unplanned (although she hoped to God that they involved something along the lines of eyesex.)

"Alexandra Ethan."

Or, you know, real sex.

New Girl's voice was soft and light; not quite what Carmen had expected from the way she carried herself so confidently. But it was a beautifully shocking surprise.

Carmen looked up from the line she was in and glanced over to where New Girl was being handed her schedule. She looked even more interesting up close.

Wait a minute: Alexandra Ethan…_That_ was her name. Carmen couldn't think of one more fitting for the stranger. Might've been because she was too distracted by said girl's chest, but who's to know.

"Name, please?"

Carmen's eyes met an anxious pair immediately. Ah, fuck it; it was just the counselor, trying to find her schedule.

"Carmen Santiago." She stated smoothly.

The woman stared at her, bored out of her mind as she handed her the schedule.

"Have fun at as a junior…" She recited in the least excited tone Carmen had ever heard.

Normally, Santiago would have found this sight amusing. She would've grinned stupidly, rolling her eyes at the lack of enthusiasm in America's education system - - although, who's really to blame, the staff or the students? She couldn't decide, but as an adolescent it was always easier to blame authority, so she stuck to her stereotype gladly. She might have even made fun of the unenthusiastic staff-member to her face, laughing loudly and boisterously, if someone hadn't already beaten her to it.

But the giggle lighting the air on fire now wasn't exactly loud and boisterous, or even laughing at the staff-lady. It was soft, sweet, and kind, and somehow familiar to Santiago in a way she could not recognize until she lifted her eyes to pools of green.

"Carmen Santiago," she heard that same voice say while she was lost inside those eyes. How she wished everyone could say her name like that.

Carmen found herself beaming uncontrollably.

"Yeah. That's me." She hesitated for a moment, taking in the sight before her.

"You actually said it correctly." She paused. "For some reason I'm not surprised."

Alexandra's face molded into a flawed, but brilliant smile. She had dimples like a baby doll.

"Oh, you aren't?" Her smile grew bigger. "Well, I'm not exactly the most American person here."

Carmen almost threw her fists up to Zeus. She laughed.

"Couldn't be happier to hear it."

They stared at one another sweetly, each openly checking the other out. Their styles of dressing were similar: they incorporated elements of high fashion, bohemian, and "scene" into their wardrobes. If worse came to worst, they could at least nab some of the other's clothing before they moved on to other girls.

Assuming they ever became a couple (or whatever) to begin with.

Carmen broke the comfortable silence. "So, you're Alexandra Ethan."

Ms. Ethan almost blushed, but wouldn't allow herself.

"Alex, actually." She bit her lip, unabashedly looking Santiago up and down, mercilessly interrogating each curve with her eyes. "It's nice to meet you finally."

A deep crimson spread across Carmen's face; she was not one to fear blushing, unlike Ms. Ethan. Carmen laughed loudly, almost embarrassed. "Hey, subtlety is what makes certain things special, isn't it?"

Alex grinned. "I wasn't worried about being too subtle with you, it didn't seem like it was the way you went about things."

Oh, yeah. She had openly stared at her for several minutes.

"It's _not_ the way I go about things." Carmen clarified, half-joking, but hoping Alex was smart enough to know she wasn't.

"Then you and I are going to get along just fine, aren't we."

Oh, they were. Carmen would make sure of it.

Next chapter:

Who said Ashley Davies had nothing in common with blonde hair and blue eyes?


End file.
